TOW She Didn't Let Her Eat
by itsafour
Summary: "Tomorrow will be a good day, I'll have a lot to clean", a plan that felt more like a prayer. - This is set on season 4, after TOW Chandler In A Box. It's about Monica and how she deals with feeling lonely and frustrated. There's nothing graphic, but if you're dealing with body image issues, maybe this should be avoided.


_**Author's note: I personally feel like Monica had a very self destructive way of dealing with sadness, and this is how I imagined she often reacted to frustration related to (lack of) love. I can relate to her a lot, so maybe this is some sort of projection. Anyway, I thought I'd post this, so here it is. If you're struggling with self loathing/body image issues, maybe this is some sort of triggering material that should be avoided.**_

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After the prospect of hosting a terrible Thanksgiving dinner, she was glad that everything ended well. _Except she wasn't glad at all_ , came the afterthought. She was actually pretty disgusted at herself. Has she hit rock bottom? What was she thinking when she tried to have a date with Timothy, of all people? Richard's son, really? Monica always prided herself for being the sane one in her little dysfunctional group of friends and she couldn't help feeling like she made a fool of herself in front of them. They would probably tease her for a long time, but she bitterly thought that maybe the whole thing was so shameful that even her merciless friends might decide to lay off her a little. She couldn't decide which one was worse – being reminded of her stupid decision by jokes or realizing her situation was sad enough that her friends would feel sorry for her.

Well, they weren't all that happy either, right? They were in a bad place too! Ross and Rachel were so out of control they even had a petty fight in front of a stranger! Joey had just been cheated on by his girlfriend and his best friend. Said best friend spent dinner in a box, for crying out loud! And Phoebe was alone and unemployed. They were all in this together. Except they weren't. Ross and Rachel obviously still loved each other, and even if they decided to keep being stupid about it, they would eventually find someone because that's what always happened to them. What was spending a holiday in a box when you receive the blessing from your best friend to go for his ex-girlfriend? Chandler was probably having sex right now, and Joey wasn't even mad anymore, probably having sex too with some girl he met two minutes earlier. And Phoebe was unemployed, sure, but she managed to always see the bright side of life. How did she even do that after going through so damn much? And she wasn't really alone because nobody wanted her – she was the one dumping guys on top of guys most of the time.

So, no, her friends weren't in the same place she was. They were all in a much better place, they had always been.

Monica knew that feeling enough to predict what was coming next. She thanked the gods for being alone; Rachel was in her room already and everybody else had left after watching Chandler make out with the girl of his dreams in the streets. She was alone.

She was alone, but not just physically. She was alone in every possible way.

So many memories of things people had told her started running around in Monica's head as she rummaged through the fridge and all the cupboards in search of some comfort food. Something delicious, please, or maybe not, really, just anything she could stuff inside her mouth until she felt a little better about her current state of mind. After closing the door of the bedroom with her free hand, she spread a towel on her bed to place the cookies and pieces of bread she'd gotten. All those things people had told her were ringing in her ears, as if she was actually hearing them all again, the voices mingled in eerie whispers. One voice stood out, and of course it was her mom's.

 _You should stop eating so much. Soon you'll be old enough to date and no boy wants to be seen with a fat girl._

 _Your cousin is so pretty! Have you seen the size of her waist?_

 _I don't get why Rachel Green hangs out with that dorky fat girl? I bet she just loves being the pretty one._

 _Hey, dude, check out that fat girl looking at you. I'll give you 50 bucks to talk to her._

 _I just don't want to be stuck here all night with your fat sister._

 _Mon, easy on those cookies, okay? Remember, they're just food; they're not love._

Yeah, she knew. She'd always known they were not love. But that's all she had, so she ate them all, swallowing hard as her throat started to close – she wasn't sure if it was from so much food in too little time or from the memories she never seemed to be able to forget. Monica's face started to burn, her eyes painfully stung as tears pooled inside them, guilt washing all over her.

She went to the bathroom to wash her face, but she secretly knew she just wanted to punish herself by looking at her sad, pathetic reflection in the mirror.

 _I look like shit_ , she grievously thought, somehow amused by how the image was a perfect match to the way she was feeling inside, the eye patch only adding ridiculousness to the picture.

Wasn't she pretty? Why did she go through all that hard work to lose weight if she was going to be lonely anyway? She thought she was giving up moments of pleasure for the possibility of real love, but all she had now was pain consuming her whole. She'd never been loved. She'd been used for sex, she'd been discarded time after time, she'd been mistreated, but she never knew love. The only memory she could associate with love had ended too soon anyway. It was as if love was this unattainable thing, completely out of reach, something that wasn't meant for her.

 _What's wrong with me?,_ that was probably a catch phrase of hers, as she would ask herself that way too often. She couldn't take that anymore. Didn't she deserve some good things too?

 _I don't deserve love_ , came the acid conclusion. Monica washed her face, finally, getting rid of the tears for good. _Tomorrow will be a good day, I'll have a lot to clean_ , a plan that felt more like a prayer. She went back to her room, crawled onto her bed – a much too big bed for such a tiny little woman. She closed her eyes, shutting them tight to stop that train of thought and focus on getting ready to sleep. Blankets on, lights off, she sighed. Tomorrow had to be a good day.


End file.
